進撃のアメリカ Advance of America
by Mister Vault 101
Summary: AU fiction in which the Titans never affected the Americas or Australia. OoC likely. In 1926, a botched Army Air Force mission to uncover some secrets about the Lost Continent of Europe results in the formation of a joint Marine Corps-AAF task force with two goals: discover what happened a century ago and secure communication with any Europeans. Their only problem? It's titanic.
1. The Botching

Some background on this fic, first.

One: You may get offended by some characters (not naming names, but they're Hitler). This is an AU fic that I decided to have fun with, so don't sue me.

Two: The technological advances on the Americas put them on par with the 2010s in some areas, but the 1980s in others. Culturally, the United States is the same as it was in the real 1920s.

Three: Keep in mind that it's very likely that I'm going to screw something up. OoC is going to be very common, so... yeah.

Four: This is considered a parody because of Team America.

Five: Enjoy!

* * *

**April 29, 1926  
German Airspace**

* * *

"Copy, Guardian, we are approximately thirty-two hundred feet above ground. Fog is severely limiting our ground visibility, over."

"Roger, Alpha-One. Attempt to get closer to the ground and survey the landscape, over."

"Wilco, Guardian. Lowering altitude to twenty-one hundred feet, over... Altitude at twenty-one hundred feet."

"Anything, Alpha-One?"

"Negative, Guardian. Lowering altitude to one thousand feet. Alpha-Two, follow suit... Altitude at one thousand feet."

"Alpha Team, can you see anything? Over."

"Guardian, this is Alpha-Two. Negative, visibility is still low. Lowering altitude to three hundred feet."

"What the hell...?"

"Guardian, this is Alpha-One. We are at an altitude of three hundred feet. The ground is visible, and- holy... Mother of God, what the fuck is that?! Shit, I'm hit, I'm hit! I'm going dow-"

Static.

"Alpha-Two, come in. What's going on?"

"Guardian, this is Alpha-Two. I'm not sure what is going on, over."

"Well, find the hell out! And no voice procedure!"

"Roger that, Guardian. There's a tall hill about five hundred yards out, it might rise to about two hundred feet... Something's on that hill, something big. I'll make a pass... Oh, holy shit! Is that a person? That's not normal, that's fucking huge! Shitshitshitshit, I'm hit! Guardian, I'm going down! Tell my wife-"

* * *

**The State, War, and Navy Building, Department of War War Room**

**Washington, District of Columbia, United States of America**

* * *

"Sir! We have lost contact with the U2s sent to Europe."

"And their last location?"

"Outside the town of Altensteig, or at least where it's supposed to be."

General Frederick Hughes of the United States Army, a tall man with rugged features, green eyes, and graying brown hair, shook his head. The mission was going without a hitch until now.

"Did they get low enough for a visual on any of Europe before we lost contact?" Hughes asked, scratching his chin.

"Yes, sir," the communications officer in front of him replied. "However, it was only for a few moments and they weren't able to relay anything verbally."

"Goddammit!" The General pounded his fist onto the table with a groan. The missions to the British Isles, Saharan Africa, eastern China, western Russia, and the isolated Empire of Japan were all failures, so it shouldn't have been surprising that a mission into Germany would have failed. "Corporal, get General Dempsey on the phone!"

The Corporal looked at the General with wide eyes. "The... The Marines, sir?"

"Aye, that's an order, is it not?"

The soldier held his hand up and saluted hastily. "Right away, sir!"

General Hughes wiped his brow as the communications officer began calling the Marine General. Months of failed Army Air Force missions had taken their toll. As much as he didn't want to do it, he had to call in the best. The Navy would just scoff and blast Europe into hell, but the Marines... _The Marines like to get shit done._

* * *

"General Dempsey speaking."

"General Dempsey, this is Corporal Lewis of the Army, speaking on behalf of General Hughes."

"Continue, Corporal."

"General Hughes would like to meet with you in person."

"Ugh... When?"

"I'd assume ASAP, sir."

"I'll be down."

"Goodbye, sir."

The General grunted in reply before hanging the telephone up. He spun around in his chair and hopped up to his feet, assuming an upright position. Cuba was going to have to wait, especially if Hughes needed him. Dempsey, a man with blonde hair, blue eyes, and an ever prevalent five o'clock shadow, had seen his share of battle over the years, though his service record was relatively short.

Dempsey walked out of his office and down the hall, entering the elevator. He hit the G button and the doors closed, the lift descending via pulley system. He sighed and paced around as he waited to get to the ground floor.

"Fucking Hughes," the General grumbled. "Always dicking around, I swear."

The elevator came to a halt, the doors opening with a ding, and Dempsey walked out as a servicewoman walked in. The General did a double take, checking her out before the doors closed. With a boyish grin, he turned around and walked through the halls, making turns when necessary. He came across the stairs to the basement and started walking down, passing a couple of Marines who were walking up. They nodded and collectively said, "Sir," which the General replied to with a nod.

He walked down another corridor in the basement, whistling as he walked. Cuba was really calling his name. Cuba and all of her beautiful broads.

The General shook his head and turned once more, the door to the Department of War's war room right in front of him. There were changes to the original design of the building within the past decade, but Dempsey wasn't in the building then to notice. He pushed the door open and looked around, the computers all lit up with airmen and soldiers either behind them or taking notes. The overhead lights were somewhat dim.

"General! Glad you could join us."

Dempsey turned to find the source of the voice, which he knew quite well. General Hughes slowly walked toward him. "What'd you want, Fred?" Dempsey asked irritably.

"Relax," Hughes said. "Cuba's not going anywhere."

"I should be going to it."

"Pfft. You can lose your money just as easily in Vegas or Detroit."

"Money's not the matter."

"Yeah, I forgot about how much of a horndog you are. You can get your dick wet just about anywhere, son. You're really too young to be a General, you know?" Hughes waved at one of the soldiers and motioned for the Marine to look at the large screen.

Dempsey sighed and walked toward the big screen. "Well, I didn't see you fighting in São Paulo or Rio de Janeiro."

"Those were black operations and you know it. I'm just surprised you got promoted as much as you did. Hell, I'm surprised you got promoted in general."

"I saw a lot of shit and did a lot of shit. I'm not keen on talking about either."

"Aye, and you shouldn't." Hughes motioned toward the screen, which had the image of a landmass on it with one red dot roughly in the middle. "What do you see, General?"

Dempsey scoffed. "That's Europe."

"What country?"

"There aren't any borders, so... I dunno, the German Empire?"

Hughes nodded. "Aye, it is."

Dempsey turned to the Army General and grimaced. "Listen old-timer, I don't need a geography lesson on a quiet continent."

It was Hughes's turn to frown. "Dempsey, this isn't a geography lesson, you damned jarhead." Dempsey nodded, his grimace not faltering. "Lewis, zoom in." The map of the German Empire enlarged and the single dot became two barely separated dots. "Those dots are where we lost contact with two U2s twenty minutes ago. Lewis, play the recording."

Dempsey looked back and saw a soldier salute earnestly. "Yes, sir!" He pressed a key on a keyboard and audio, plagued by minor static, played loudly.

_"Guardian, this is Alpha-One. We are at an altitude of three hundred feet. The ground is visible, and- holy... Mother of God, what the fuck is that?! Shit, I'm hit, I'm hit! I'm going dow-"_

"Next one, Lewis."

"Yes, sir!"

_"Roger that, Guardian. There's a tall hill about five hundred yards out, it might rise to about two hundred feet... Something's on that hill, something big. I'll make a pass... Oh, holy shit! Is that a person? That's not normal, that's fucking huge! Shitshitshitshit, I'm hit! Guardian, I'm going down! Tell my wife-"_

Dempsey shook his head. The Army Air Force was still doing these missions? Even worse, they were sending these men into unknown territory in spy planes?

"Why did you tell me about this?" the Marine asked, his head down in honour of the fallen.

"Well..." Hughes sighed and assumed a solemn expression. "I was hoping you could round up a battalion of some of the best Marines you know of. A joint team to see what exactly is going on in Europe. What's been going on for the last century, even."

Dempsey's grimace stayed firmly in place. "I'll need more to go off than this. Besides that, we need to get the President's appro-"

"The President's already approved of the missions."

"We still don't know what we're up against."

Hughes nodded. "All we can really go off of are the old stories from the Hermit Immigrants."

_The Hermit Immigrants, or Hermigrants... it's been a while since I've heard that, _Dempsey thought. _They're old slang terms for Asians, Africans, and Europeans who migrated en masse to the Americas a century ago, and, since they're old, it figures this old-timer would use the term... If I'm right, they told of giant, naked humanoid creatures that devoured any human they saw, destroying entires cities in the process. British legend had it that London was taken down in a single day, one of the giants demolishing half of Westminster Abbey with a single kick__. Japanese legend, the legend of the true Hermit Immigrants, told of Tokyo and Kyoto both being half-demolished with the samurai attempting to fight off the giants. Ultimately, they were all killed and only one giant was slain, supposedly by a wound to the back of its neck. Grandpa once said that the Japanese were basically thought of as crazy when they landed throughout Oregon Country. Some spoke Dutch, a rare few spoke English, and they all spoke Japanese... They had to be kept somewhere until Dutch-English interpreters arrived from Boston, though some of the English speakers interpreted, and, even then, they were considered off their rockers... Those are just stories, though._

"But those stories are just that: stories." Dempsey sighed and ran his hands through his short hair. "We need tangible proof. Did the planes snap any photos? Video, even?"

Hughes shrugged. "We didn't get any... but the planes are a little dated, so, I don't know."

"Shit..."

"General Hughes, sir," a different soldier said. "We've received something from one of the planes. Video, I think."

Hughes's face seemed hopeful. "Lieutenant Colonel Marshall, pull it up."

Dempsey turned to look at Lieutenant Colonel Marshall and realized that he saw the soldier, an aspiring statesman from Pennsylvania, once before, during the Favela Wars. The two locked eyes and nodded to each other before Dempsey's attention returned to the screen.

The video, labelled **ALPHA-TWO** in the bottom-right, played with the spy plane's engine loudly roaring. Nothing but a cloud of fog and another plane was visible at first in the dusk sky, but the pilot made several altitude adjustments, ending when they were a mere three hundred feet off of the ground. Trees went for miles in what Dempsey assumed was the German Black Forest, the second plane nearing a hill in the background. A giant blur suddenly swung at the second plane, which immediately burst into flames and fell out of the sky. Alpha-Two readjusted its path and flew toward the hill, the blur becoming visible as the pilot cried, "Oh, holy shit! Is that a person?"

"Holy shit..." Dempsey uttered.

Similar swears were uttered throughout the war room as the occupants feasted their eyes upon the sight on the screen: a giant, naked humanoid, a disturbing smile plastered on its face. The camera turned sideways, indicating that the pilot tried to avoid a hit, but the giant's hand swung out and swatted the plane out of the air. The pilot cried out that he was hit, and he crashed into the trees shortly after. The camera kept recording, however, and the nude giant walked toward the wrecked plane. The pilot, who ejected successfully, got stuck on a tree and rushed to cut himself free. The giant picked the pilot up, somehow not squishing him, and raised him to its mouth.

The pilot struggled and cried, "No, nonono! Please, no!" to no avail. The giant opened its mouth and kept raising its hand. Once the pilot's upper body was far enough in, the giant snapped its mouth shut, blood and chunks of gore squirting out. A bit of blood spattered on the camera and the view was obstructed.

Silence lowered itself into the room like a spider. Dempsey looked around and saw that everyone was frozen in place. General Hughes grimaced and thawed out. "George! Turn off the video. Everyone else, back to work!" The Lieutenant Colonel complied, as did everyone else. The General looked at Dempsey and placed his hand on the Marine's shoulder. "It's up to you, kid. After seeing that, I'd be wary, too."

The Marine shrugged the Army General's hand off and maintained a poker face. "They exist... We can't let this leave the Building. The public can not know anything about this, Fred."

"Of course not-"

_Those things could become a threat to the Americas... We _have_ to do something._

"I'll get some Marines," the Marine said, playing with the grip of the M1911 holstered at his side. "You need to figure out how to get these men and women to Germany without the public knowing."

Hughes winked. "Don't worry. I have a plan."

As he walked out, Dempsey growled, "You better, dammit."

* * *

**Southern Germany**

* * *

The heavy footsteps shook the ground all around. Trees' leaves shook, branches, sometimes entire trees, falling down on occasion. Rapid, uneven breathing permeated throughout the otherwise silent night. Alpha-One looked around, having reached a clearing. Close to half a mile ahead of him was a large stone wall, illuminated by the light of the moon and the torches scattered about on top. As he was flying in his spy plane, the pilot spotted a similar wall accompanied by an abandoned city of an older design, so he wondered if the wall ahead of him housed civilians as well.

_But... These... things... _The pilot paused, took a deep breath, and attempted to move forward. _Shit!_

The pilot's knee buckled, having sustained a severe injury from a botched ejection. He gritted his teeth, drew his standard issue sidearm, and pressed on. He broke into a discomforting jog, pain searing throughout his leg. The monstrosity seemed to have lost track of him, but the American pilot knew he didn't have long. He _had _to reach the wall.

He ran for twenty minutes, ignoring the pain as best he could. _You can do it,_ he thought. _You were through worse in Brazil._

Once he was within a hundred feet, Alpha-One felt a wave of relief surge through, despite the amount of giants surrounding the wall. He was nearing potential safety. Regardless of the gamble, it was likely better than staying out to die. However, the blood loss, constant pain, and fear of the huge humanoids took a combined toll on the pilot. He held his handgun up high.

He squeezed the trigger several times, emptying the magazine.

"Hey!" he shouted as loud as possible, reloading his M1911 in the meantime. "Let me in!"

One of the giants, approximately six meters tall, turned toward him, a dastardly grin planted on its face. Almost instantaneously, the giant swooped down and grabbed the pilot. The American, screaming the whole time, was raised up to the giant's mouth. The giant creature licked its lips and opened wide. In a panic, the pilot, whose right hand wasn't constricted, aimed his handgun at the giant's eye and squeezed the trigger several times.

He didn't take into account the five meter fall that accompanied those shots.


	2. Mobilized

**May 17, 1925**

**Jacqueshammer Hotel, Uniontown, Commonwealth of Pennsylvania**

**United States of America**

* * *

The final notes of the smooth, jazzy tunes of the saxophones echoed off of the acoustic walls and ceiling of the ballroom. The saxophone players rested their instruments and relaxed as the orchestra began to play Wagner's "Ride of the Valkyries," an oddity for a high school prom.

In fact, every other musical selection at the prom was somewhat odd, compared to some of the bands that used synthesizers and electric guitars that had their music played at other schools' proms in the area.

Even so, I loved every minute of it.

Placing my right hand on my date's left shoulder and my left hand on her right hip, we attempted to do a slow dance. Neither of us knew how to dance, but it was fun, regardless.

Her long red hair, dazzling green eyes, and beautiful Oriental facial features made her stand out against all of the other girls at the prom, at least for me. The wine red open-back dress and long white gloves she wore really worked in her favor.

_Crushing on your childhood friend? Come on, man..._

She rested her head on my chest and sighed, the two of us still moving with the music. "When do you ship out?" she asked solemnly.

"Not until July," I replied, fighting the urge to rest my head on hers. That'd've been plain weird.

She looked up with a sad look. "Don't tell me you're only doing this to go to Europe."

I shrugged. "That's not the _only_ reason... You know why."

She nodded and rested her head on my shoulder once more. "It's a damn shame, too... You couldn't even get a scholarship from Penn State?"

"I didn't try."

Her fist hit me in the chest, though the padding of the suit lessened the already weak blow. "Idiot..."

* * *

**May 1, 1926**

**The Basic School, MCB Quantico, Commonwealth of Virginia**

**United States of America**

* * *

_It's been almost a year, but I'm finally done._

That thought carried me through most of the day. I had yet to ship out and I was probably going to be stationed in Cuba or Okinawa, but my superiors never said anything about my station. So, I walked around the base, grabbing food from the commissary and snacking, waiting to be informed.

It felt amazing to finally be done with all of the training. Not being able to pay for college left me with military service, so I ended up joining the Marines as an officer. The only other thing that led me to join the military were the rumors that went around when I was in high school about the military doing secret missions to Europe, Africa, and Asia. The Eurfrasia Missions — I liked to call them that — were something I wanted to participate in.

The biggest thing was my lack of funds for college, though.

I sat down on a bench in an open area and stretched my legs out. Chances were, I wouldn't be in any actual conflict. Having lost all contact with Europe, Asia, and Africa a century ago, bar the immigrants from the silent continents, America had nothing to worry about since the Mexican-American War seventy years ago and the Civil War in the '60s. _Well, and the Australian-Union War in the early '70s, but that was just silly._

"I wonder what the technology of the Lost Continents, as they're sometimes called, is like," I said to myself. "It's actually quite amazing once you think about how rapid and staggeringly great the technological advancements are here in the States. Men traveled to the moon nearly thirty years ago, but seventy years ago, the thought of space travel was mere science fiction. Sixty, seventy years ago, horse and buggy was the best way to get from point A to point B, and now we have jet planes and sports cars. But what about Europe, Asia, and Africa? Maybe they actually achieved space flight earlier than we did and are flying to other stars or something. That'd be pretty cool..."

"But even with our technology, it's impossible to visit the continents," a familiar voice said. I looked up to see one of my fellow graduates standing in front of me. She had short red hair and green eyes, lacked in the bust department, and was my best friend. "Throughout the Americas, there are strict bans on going anywhere near Asia, Africa, or Europe, the sole exceptions being Iceland and Okinawa, though there have been those recent warnings on going to Okinawa and troop deployments there have been more frequent... No one really wants to go to Australia, anyway. Too many spiders... This seat taken?" She pointed next to me.

My head shook. "Not at all, Minami."

She punched my shoulder. "That's _Lieutenant Hazuki_ to you, maggot."

I chuckled. "Sure thing, Lieutenant."

I bit into the hamburger in my hand as she sat down. The bread, beef, cheese, and ketchup mixture was simply amazing in my mouth, especially after roughly six months of mess hall food. Don't get me wrong, we weren't fed legitimate shit, but there were days in which we might as well have been eating shit, so the outside food was more than a blessing.

It was a gift from God, or the Buddha, or... the something.

"It feels good to be done, doesn't it?" Minami asked, leaning back in the bench.

"Feels great," I agreed. "Where're you headed? Since we probably won't see each other again for a while and all, y'know."

"Pfft." Minami cocked her eyebrows, but quickly adopted a cute face. "Are you actually worried about me? That's so sweet." She sighed and looked down the path. "To be honest, I don't know. I wasn't told."

"Neither was I." My eyes shot to her and a grin spread across my lips. "Maybe we'll be sent to the same place. Maybe Havana, Sydney, or, hell, Oki. See you in a bikini again. Not like there's much to see anyway, though."

She grabbed my arm and twisted, causing me to yelp in pain. "Idiot! Keep dreaming. That's not going to-"

The loud sound of air thumping repeatedly suddenly reached my ears, cutting Minami off and making her relax, while my eyes shot upward to see what it was. A helicopter, one of the Raven models, landed just under a hundred feet away from us. _That's odd..._

A high-ranking marine stepped out from the cargo bay of the helicopter. He began strolling over to us and I, thinking with my stomach first, freed my arm, shoved the rest of the burger in my mouth, chewed it up real fast, swallowed, and hopped up just in time to salute the... _General? A General?!_ Minami followed suit.

"At ease, marines," he said, waving us off. I lowered my hand and relaxed, as did Minami. "I know who you two are, but do either of you know who I am?"

Blonde hair, blue eyes, chiseled features, a five o'clock shadow... None of it struck any bells. "No, sir."

"Can't say I know, either, sir," Minami said.

He pointed toward himself. "I'm your commanding officer now, Lieutenants. I'm General Dempsey. Get used to my face, kids. You're gonna be seeing a lot of it here soon." He spun around and walked back toward the helicopter, motioning for us to follow.

I looked at Minami, who was looking at me, and we both shrugged. With no other options presented, the two of us followed the General and got into the cargo bay of the helicopter. Two seabags of stuff, which I assumed belonged to us, were on the side of the helo to our right as we took our seats. The General shut the door and took a seat opposite us.

The helo rose off of the ground and we began to fly. For twenty minutes, it was silent in the helicopter; however, my curiosity killed the silence, much like it did the cat.

"Permission to speak, sir?" I asked, remembering to keep it formal.

"Jesus, kid," the General said. "I thought you were never gonna ask. Go right ahead."

_Well, he seems more laid-back than some..._ "Why are we here?"

"Hmm... It's one of life's great mysteries, isn't it? 'Why are we here?' I mean, are we the product of some cosmic coincidence, or is there really a God watching everything? You know, with a plan for us and stuff. I don't know, marine, but it keeps me up at night."

I stared blankly at the General for a good minute before deciding to actually respond. "I meant why are we _here,_ in the helicopter? We definitely weren't the top of our class."

The General suddenly looked dumbstruck. "Oh, shit... That may be true, but you're here because you two are the most qualified."

"For what?" Minami asked, leaning forward.

"You'll find out..." The General glared at us. "That's all you're getting out of me, so I'd advise you to not press any further."

Yet another sigh escaped me as I leaned back. _This doesn't seem like standard procedure... Hell, what am I thinking? It ain't standard at all. No matter, I may as well just go with it._

* * *

**Parris Island, South Carolina, United States of America**

* * *

After a stop for refueling, we landed on Parris Island, otherwise known as Hell. Minami ended up falling asleep in the helo, but I kept awake and tried talking to the General. He was defensive about his service, especially when I asked how he could look so young and be a general.

"Lieutenant," he had said. "That information is on a need-to-know basis, and, quite frankly, you don't need to know."

The three of us walked out of the helicopter, which landed on the runway, Minami stumbling out since she was just waking up. I put both seabags on my back since she would've probably fallen over. She was a deep sleeper and if she woke up early, she wouldn't be able to do most things for several minutes.

The General turned his neck to face us, but kept walking forward. "Welcome to Hell, marines." He resumed looking forward. "I don't think you've been here, but we aren't going to stay long. Hell, our ride's right there." He pointed to the S-260 plane about fifty yards away.

"How come, sir?" I asked, glancing at Minami to make sure she did fall back asleep on the ground. She was in the clear.

"We have elsewhere to go, marine. This is just a layover, if you will."

My head bobbed in a nod. _Then where the hell are we going? Cuba? Wait, he won't tell us anything... Maybe..._ "Are we going to Europe, sir?"

The General stopped and made an about-face. His expression was blank and unreadable. "I was wondering how long it would have taken you to figure it out." He did another one-eighty. "I'll explain it more once we're on the plane."

I nodded, though it went unseen. While I followed, the weight on my back suddenly felt much lighter. I looked behind me to see Minami sling a bag over her shoulder.

"You good?" I asked.

"Never better," she replied, blinking a couple times. "Did he say we're going to Europe?"

I nodded, but didn't say anything. At least two dozen marines were standing outside of the plane, a superior officer barking at them. Looking past the USMC-marked S-260, I spotted another plane with Army Air Force markings. _The USAAF is in on this, too?_

Minami and I joined the ranks of the marines loitering outside of the plane, a couple whispered comments about Minami going around. General Dempsey took over for the other man, stepping in front of him. "Hughes, go handle your men. These marines are obviously unfazed by your army bullshit."

The Army General, at least that's what I assumed he was, nodded and walked to the other plane, starting his tirade all over again while a marine with a toothbrush mustache and short black hair walked up next to the General. Like the General, he had noticeable stubble, but unlike the General, he was wearing his BDUs. His shoulder patch indicated he was a major and his name patch read HITLER.

"Attention!" the General boomed, silencing the whispers. Everyone stood stoic, looking straight toward our superior. "You were brought here today because you are all the most qualified candidates for this mission. Some of you are fresh-faced recruits, enlisted or officers..." He looked in our direction. "Some of you are veterans, and a select few of you were with me in Brazil ten years ago." _What's he talking about?_ "We have a bigger problem now, and it's in Europe."

Throughout the group, hushed whispers of "Europe?" spread like wildfire. I locked my eyes onto the Major, who drew his M1911 and aimed upward at an angle, squeezing the trigger. A deafening shot rang out and the Major shouted, "SCHLAFEN!"

The General nodded to his subordinate. "Thank you, Adolf." The Major replied with a nod and holstered his sidearm. "As I was saying, Europe, Germany to be exact, is our destination. This will not - I repeat, _NOT_ - be an easy assignment. Were it so easy, we'd have the fucking Coast Guard here." The General began to pace. "Once you board this plane, nothing is to be said to the public. If you wish to back out now, you may, but you'll still have to sign papers ensuring you keep your shiteating mouths shut or you'll be charged with treason. Any takers?" No one moved. "Good. Board the plane, marines."

The engines started and the crowd moved forward, Minami and I closely behind. _Wow! Going to Europe this early? Hell, it's a dream come true!_

Minami and I boarded the plane second-to-last, ahead of the Major. We took our seats near the end of the cargo bay, the Major sitting across from us. The cargo bay door closed and I felt the plane begin to move, a feeling only felt by me a few times before, most notably when I went to Los Angeles International from Pittsburgh International and, from LAX, to Naha International.

After the plane took off and we were in the air for half an hour, I turned to the Major. "Permission to speak, sir?" I asked the question despite all of the talking going on around me, including my earlier conversations with Minami.

The Major, his face dimly illuminated by the cargo bay lights, raised an eyebrow. "What's the point in asking for permission if you're gonna do it anyway?" He sighed. "What is it, Lieutenant?"

"Are we heading straight to Europe, or...?"

He shook his head. "We're stopping in Iceland for refueling, then landing on the U.S.S. Roosevelt. An advance team is being sent out to gather intel before we deploy any more troops."

"Also, sir..."

"What?" He looked slightly irritated.

"What exactly did you shout on the airstrip? That wasn't English."

"It was German for 'be quiet,' though I guess you figured that much out... Any other questions?"

I shook my head. "No, sir."

"Good. Now, if you'll excuse me..." Major Hitler grabbed two objects off of the seat next to him, a pencil and a sketch book, and began to draw.

My eyes wandered around the cargo bay. Everyone was either chatting or sleeping. Once jetlag set in, it'd be even worse.

"Hey," Minami said, punching my arm lightly. "You're bound to be excited."

I looked at her with a wide grin. "You bet your ass I am. We're going, Minami."

_To Europe._


	3. Attack on Helicopter

**May 2, 1926**

**U.S.S. Roosevelt, North Sea, just off the northern coast of Germany**

* * *

"What... what the fuck is that thing?" one of the marines asked. They were just shown the most recent film of the giants in Europe.

General Dempsey sighed loudly. "Corporal, that, THAT is the enemy! These giants are what threaten us as we venture into the depths of a lost continent! Keep on your toes. Air support will be scarce since we have no feet on the ground. If the old Japanese Hermit tales are to be believed, the back of their neck seems to do the trick. If you happen to come across any traces of human civilization, you make contact and keep us informed!"

"But, sir," one of the lieutenants asked. It was the one boy the General had picked up in the helicopter in Virginia. "How exactly are we going to kill something that tall on the ground?"

"That, Lieutenant, is a very good question..." The General gave him a blank stare. "We have helicopters, don't we?"

* * *

"Alright marines! You know what to do! If you need supplies, extraction, or air support, activate the appropriate marker and we'll send a jet out from the carrier at Lake Constance." General Dempsey looked us over. "Alpha Team, you're with Major Hitler. Bravo, you're with me. Charlie and Delta, you're both in the Indians."

I was all geared up in the most up-to-date equipment we had and armed with some of the best weaponry for a rifleman. An M1923A3 Browning Automatic Rifle and a custom M1911A1 were pretty awesome to have. Both were pretty powerful, too. Minami, on the other hand, was one of the snipers. She was armed with a semi-automatic Springfield M1913A5 fifty-caliber rifle and a custom M1911A1 as well. _Given what the hell we saw in those briefing videos, though, we may need more than fucking forty-fives and fifties..._

I walked with Minami and boarded one of the helicopters, since we were part of Charlie Team. The Sioux we boarded was modified to hold a LOT of fuel, meaning we could probably get to where we were supposed to with a lot to spare, and it had a cargo bay for just this sort of situation. An attack helo that can attack in most directions.

A second rifleman, Sergeant Martinez, and a second sniper, Sergeant Hartman, boarded with us. They closed the door and took a seat opposite Minami and myself. The fifty-caliber Gatling guns mounted on both sides of the helo were going to be operated by Martinez and myself while Minami strapped herself down on the floor and sniped on my side, while the Sergeant did the same on Martinez's side.

We only talked to our partners for a majority of the flight. When we did talk as a team, it was only background and tactics. Hartman was from Chicago, played varsity football, and was accepted to the University of Michigan on a full athletic scholarship, but he was mistakenly arrested and given the choice of service or jail time. Martinez grew up in one of Los Angeles's seedier portions and joined the Marines to better herself.

Our tactics were simple: shoot first, ask questions later.

* * *

After being in the sky for roughly two and a half hours, the pilot gave us the signal to open the doors and for the snipers to strap in. Before we opened the doors, Martinez and I looked out the front, the mid afternoon light illuminating everything. Lumbering around among hundreds of trees were three of the freaks, the shortest of which being roughly twenty feet tall.

We looked at each other and silently agreed to kill the bastards before turning to our doors. By the force of my hand, my door slid open and I grabbed onto the Browning-made Gatling gun. The pilot lowered the helo and fired a rocket at the giant monstrosity in front of us, which was probably thirty yards tall, much taller than its companions. I leaned back to look and saw that the rocket blew up, leaving a giant crater where the freak of nature's face was.

"This is too easy!" the pilot exclaimed. I nodded in agreement as I returned to my position and opened fire on the short one, the multitude of fifty-caliber rounds tearing its skull to pieces. Flesh and blood spattered all over the surrounding trees and, once the smoke cleared, a huge hole was exposed in its skull.

It was black.

"What the hell?" I muttered, my headset transmitting my voice to my teammates.

"What?" Minami asked as she squeezed off a shot at the same giant. "This damn thing won't fall..."

"Minami, look inside of its skull with your scope."

"I don't see why... What the hell? It's just... black."

"What the fuck?!" The pilot's voice interrupted our investigation.

"What?" Martinez asked.

"It... Its face... Its fucking face..."

"What the hell are you going on about?" Hartman demanded.

Everything was crystal clear, even with the constant gunfire. What the pilot said, however, wasn't clear. "It's back! That thing regrew its face!"

I leaned back to look out of the front, only to see that the pilot wasn't lying. In disbelief, I looked down at the thing I was shooting with Minami. "That's... that's impossible," I muttered as I saw the blood and flesh spattered about dissolve and the destroyed skull regenerate.

The freakish thing from hell looked up at the helicopter with the most unsettling grin I had ever seen. It jumped up and swatted at us, but we were just outside of its reach.

"Pull the fuck up!" I shouted. The pilot complied almost immediately and raised the altitude roughly fifty feet. I stepped away from the mounted gun and grabbed the pair of binoculars out of my chest pouch. I carefully looked over the edge of the helo and sighted in the tallest giant. The back of its neck was visible. "Minami, shoot the tall one in the center of the back of the neck."

"Where?" Her voice was soaked with anxiety. I was nervous as well, but Minami and I were trained to lead. Minami clearly failed that role, but she was never the leading type to start with.

"The center of the back of the neck!" I repeated. "You heard those legends as a kid, didn't you?"

She didn't say anything. All that I heard over the thumping of the helicopter blades was a powerful gunshot. The bullet, too fast for me to track, smacked right in the middle of the giant's neck. The thirty-yard tall beast bucked and fell, getting impaled by at least thirty trees in doing so.

"Ogenkidesuka, bitch," Minami said cockily.

"Calm yourself," I said, lightly tapping her side with my foot.

The pilot held steady and we watched as the behemoth's spilled blood and actual body bubbled up. Martinez stood next to me and watched.

"It looks like it's... melting, almost," I said.

"Its death leaves no trace," Martinez remarked, brushing her brown hair out of her eyes. "Look at the trees. There's no blood on them, even though they just impaled that thing..."

I nodded. "True... Get back on your turret," I suddenly snapped, remembering that we weren't on a zoological study. "There're still two left."

"Yes, sir!"

Despite the fact that Martinez definitely had more experience than me, she still called me "sir." _I'm surprised, even if that is what we're supposed to do._

I slid the binoculars back into their pouch, grabbed hold of the gun, and began to fire at one of the remaining gargantuan humanoids, the bullets missing the true target. Martinez and Hartman took several shots, but their continued fire meant they hadn't scored a kill, either.

I instructed the pilot to make a circular pass around the one I was shooting at, which must've been twenty yards tall. He obliged and began to make the pass. The giant moved lethargically, so it wasn't long until I had a clear shot. I held down the triggers and unleashed a hail of bullets along the nape of the big man's neck. The thing dropped like its brother before, and, just like its sibling, it began to bubble up and melt, no trace of its existence being left.

I let go of the gun and fiddled with the radio frequency on my headset, tuning into Bravo Team's frequency. "Bravo-One, come in, this is Charlie-Two," I said. "The center of the nape of a giant's neck is the kill spot. Repeat, the center of the nape is the kill spot, over."

"Ten-four, good buddy, Charlie-Three," the General said in reply. "I'll relay the message."

_Ten-four... Charlie-Three... What the hell?_ "Roger. Charlie-_Two_ out." I switched my frequency back to Charlie Team's. "Okay... Lower the helicopter!"

"Lowering!" the pilot replied.

I turned around to face the opposite pair. "Hartman, Martinez, take out the thing if you can."

Martinez turned around and nodded while Hartman, with a smug tone, merely said, "If I can, he says. Hell yeah, I can."

Katsumi and I kept looking on our side just in case some more decided to show up. While the pilot maneuvered the helo to get the titanic individual's weak spot exposed, I ended up looking at the surroundings and noticing a large stone-looking wall, like the ones I'd heard about in fairy tales or seen in New Berlin, about a half-mile away. _Funny how we didn't notice it before..._

A gunshot rang out and a loud thump followed. "Got the bastard!" Hartman exclaimed.

I turned around. "Good job!" I complimented. The pilot began to raise the altitude once more.

"Shit." Minami's swear was very calm, unnaturally so, but laden with fear. "Guys..."

I turned around to face forward again. "Wha-"

Somehow, staring right at us on my side was a colossus among giants. Its facial expression was, for lack of better words, ghoulish rape face. The giant lacked any form of skin tissue, its muscles exposed all over. It opened its mouth, literally releasing steam.

"Oh shit... Pull up! Pull the hell up!" I shouted, grabbing the Browning Gatling gun and squeezing the triggers.

"I'm trying!" the pilot cried.

"Try harder!"

The flurry of high-caliber bullets dazed the freak for a fleeting second of hope. It stumbled backward and we started to gain altitude. There was probably a collective mental sigh of relief from my teammates and myself.

Then we started to spin.

* * *

**Atop Wall Rose**

**Trost**

* * *

"That... thing..."

Sasha Braus shivered, lowered her spyglass, and closed it, the smoke from past the wall billowing higher and higher. _What was that? I've never seen such a thing..._

The sound of two sets of Maneuver Gear cables returning to their homes followed by the loud footsteps of humans landing broke into the Potato Girl's thoughts. "Braus, what's going on down there?"

She looked over her shoulder and shrugged. "I don't know, ma'am. There was smoke like that a few days ago as well, but no one checked."

"Like I give a damn about that smoke." Levi Ackerman walked toward the edge of Wall Rose alongside Hange Zoë. "What was that loud crash? You were stationed up here, what the hell was it?"

Sasha gulped nervously, the captain's harsh and accusing tone, although normal for him, making her unsure of how to explain anything she saw. "Well, sir, there was a large... flying hunk of metal that had a lot of muskets inside."

Levi barely raised an eyebrow in response. "What the hell are you talking about?"

She raised her hands apprehensively. "I promise you that I saw it! Whatever was in that metal thing took out three Titans before getting taken out itself by-"

_Kaboom!_

A nearby explosion rang out and interrupted Sasha, the flames visible through the foliage. "Sounds like fun," Hange said, pointing herself forward. "Let's go check it out, yeah?"

Levi shook his head. "No, we-" The commander ignored him and jumped down the wall, running and jumping to fire her hooks. "Dammit," the captain groaned before following suit, leaving Sasha alone to wonder what exactly was going on as she nibbled on a potato she had tucked away.

* * *

**The Forest**

* * *

My eyes snapped open, the sight of fire catching them and the smells of smoke, burning fuel, and another burning substance polluting my nostrils. My brain stated the obvious, that we crashed, but my memories themselves were fuzzy. I decided that there was no time for sorting out the details.

"Fuck," I groaned as I sat up, pushing some debris off of me. I looked around, noting the nearby clearing and the mass of trees in addition to the crashed helicopter ten feet away from me.

_Oh, no, Minami!_ I hopped to my feet, ignoring the discomfort in my legs caused by the crash, and dashed to the wrecked helo. The front end dug into the ground, the pilot's charred corpse still in the seat. The mutilated corpses of Hartman and Martinez lied pinned between the helicopter and the ground. I mourned them for a brief second, quietly thanking them for their service. _How the hell did I get tossed on this side, though?_

I climbed on top of the destroyed helicopter and slid down to the other side, landing right next to Minami's body, which was still strapped onto the floor of the cargo bay. I looked around for any approaching enemies, which I drew a blank on. Convinced that there weren't any giant freaks about to swoop down and make me dinner, I turned back to my friend.

"Please don't be dead," I muttered as I placed my fingers on her neck to check for a pulse.

_Thump. Thump._

Exhaling heavily, I began to unfasten Minami's harness. The straps came undone relatively easily, bar the last one. After a few tugs and failed unbuckling attempts, I pulled my Bowie knife out of its sheath, slicing the blade right through the strap and severing it. Minami slid a little, but I grabbed her upper body and pulled her out of the wreckage. I strapped her rifle on her back and set her upright.

"Ba... baka," she whispered as I picked her up and began carrying her toward the clearing, her voice barely audible over the crackling flames.

"Keep quiet, Minami," I whispered. "Save your energy."

"Baka..." she repeated once we were a decent distance away from the downed helo. "You're... you're going to... to get-"

_KABOOM!_

The explosion had enough force to knock Minami and me onto the ground, more pain searing through my leg and a fresh wave through my head. Minami grunted when she hit the ground, likely due to my head smacking into her stomach.

"Son of a bitch," I groaned, pushing myself off of the ground. Somehow, the shrapnel avoided the both of us. Death was too close for comfort. I scooped Minami up and tossed her over my left shoulder, readjusting the radio frequency then drawing my M1911 with my right hand. My left leg was not only in pain, but warm from the bleeding that I was initially oblivious to.

"Come in, Bravo-One," I breathed, glad that the headset stayed on. No response was made. "Come in, Bravo-One, this is Charlie-Two." Still no response. "Goddammit..."

I began limping at a quick pace, though I was unsure of where we would go. If the General wasn't picking up on the radio, I doubted that the beacons would've worked any better. _This went to hell in a hand basket real fast._

A strange sound, one that was similar to the sound an old-school hookshot that the Army Rangers sometimes still use would retract, reached my ears. Twice, actually. Anticipating an encounter of some kind, I set Minami down and raised my 1911, aiming with two hands directly ahead just as two people, a guy and a broad, landed in front of me.

People. Landing. Two of them. From a possibly great height.

_What the hell, I've seen giant freaks that nearly killed us, so why not?_

The man, a black-haired fellow shorter than I, stepped forward, some kind of blade in his hand and two odd looking pieces of equipment on both of his hips. He wore roughly the same attire as the female: a brown jacket with some sort of badge on it that had wings, knee high boots, and white-and-brown trousers. The only differences between the two were the different coloured shirts and the handkerchief-thing the dude had at the collar of his shirt.

"'Clinton, U.S. Marines,'" he said, reading my uniform. He didn't seem fazed by the gun pointed at him. "Hange, grab the- never mind, you're already there."

The chick, Hange, swooped down and grabbed Minami when I wasn't paying attention, leaving little room for the surprise that they spoke English. I readjusted my aim onto Hange, flicking the safety off. I forgot to the first time.

"Look at this equipment!" the chick who I was aiming at exclaimed as she checked my friend over, oblivious to the firearm pointed at her. "This is so cool!"

"I suggest you put her down," I said in a surprisingly calm manner.

The man spun around, moving toward me, and stopped, the blade a few inches from my neck. It seemed as though he was peering into my soul. "You'll regret it if you do," he said emotionlessly.

Despite the blade almost being pressed against my throat, I felt cocky. "I doubt I will."

"You and your girlfriend surely don't want to be on a platter, do you?" he inquired mockingly, his facial expression unchanged. "Because I can certainly serve you up on one for the Titans. Buttered bread and all."

"Levi!" Hange scolded. "Stand down!" Levi, as he was called, sighed and lowered his blade. "Grab that man and get him to safety!"

With an even more reluctant sigh, Levi suddenly spun around, grabbed hold of me, and shot what I assumed was a grappling hook out of his peculiar equipment. Hange did the same with Minami, who was lucky to be out of it. We suddenly flew toward the wall and it took almost everything I had to not scream like a little girl, especially when we suddenly made an upward turn and landed on top of the wall. I rolled out of Levi's clutches, something he didn't seem to mind, and coughed. I flicked my 1911's safety back on, holstered it, and looked up to see a cute redhead standing above me with a half-eaten potato in her hand.

"Want some?" she asked, holding the potato out to me. _She's not even going to ask where I'm from? Why I'm here? Why isn't she freaking out?_

I sat up and looked around. Minami was still out and on the ground while Levi and Hange had a short conversation. With nothing better to do, I nodded. "Sure, why not?"

* * *

**AN: Thus ends the third chapter. I already can tell that OoC will be an issue with this story, which may or may not be frequently updated.**

**Also, why doesn't anyone ship Sasha and Eren?! Hell, even Sasha and Reader! BRB, rebelling against the system.**


	4. No History, No Problems

**Warning: Chapter contains minor lemon.**

* * *

I pulled the marker out of my pocket for the sixth time within the past hour, but the feeling that nothing would happen still lingered. Even so, with a sigh, I turned the beacon selector from green to orange and activated it, sliding it back into my pocket before looking around the pub that I ended up in. The interior and exterior design of the building was of the mid- to late-1700s, the stuff one would only see in history books, old districts in major cities, or those silly European Mythology books. Wooden trusses and floors on the inside, something resembling plaster on the exterior. I never truly remembered what it was.

Although I was given a large cloak to blend in, people often gave me strange looks and asked why my clothes, which they could see since the cloak wasn't all-concealing, were the way they were. The pub was no exception. I replied they were a design I made up to help camouflage me as I hunted game. They usually went on to ask what the giant wrapped item on my back was, but I didn't answer them directly. While it was actually my automatic rifle and Minami's sniper, I said it was just some building supplies.

Sasha, the cute redhead, sat across from me. She was put in charge of handling me for a few hours by Levi and Hange, who took Minami to an infirmary or something. They took me as well, but I got patched up quickly and put with Sasha.

Sasha twirled her fork and gave me an inquisitive look. "So," she said. "Where are you from?"

"Where am I from?" I asked, making sure I heard her correctly.

She nodded. "Well, yeah. I've never seen you around before. Well, you _were_ outside of the wall when the Captain and the Commander got you, so... Your clothes say otherwise and this is extremely unlikely, but are you from Shiganshina?"

My head shook. "Uh, no... I'm from the United States," I replied. _Surely she knows of the States. It's only been, what, a century?_

"Never heard of them." She picked up some steak with the fork and popped it into her mouth.

I gawked at her. "You don't know what the United States are, yet you live in the German Empire?" _Wait, it's not even the German Empire, is it? It was part of the Holy Roman Empire, maybe even the Austrian, but..._ I let those thoughts slide.

She cocked an eyebrow. "I have no idea what you're talking about, Mister Clinton." I rolled my eyes and took a draught of water while Sasha picked up a raw potato set on the side and bit into it, chewed, and swallowed. "Aside from that, do you know what that giant metal thing that took out the Titans was? I mean, you were outside of the wa-"

"Helicopter," I said matter-of-factly. "It's a helicopter. It flies and can get from point A to point B pretty fast. We had guns on board, which we used to take out the giant freaks you call Titans."

"Helicopter?" she repeated quietly. She kept quiet for a second, nibbling on a potato. "So... you came from beyond the walls..."

"What are you talking about?" I asked, leaning back in my chair.

"Well, these United States aren't within the walls and we certainly don't have those helicopter things, so you're from outside of the walls. That's weird, though, since we're supposed to be the only human settlement left..."

I felt confused. "Who said you were the only human settlement left?"

Sasha tapped her chin. "No one in particular. That's just what we've been taught." She took a sip of water. "The Survey Corps was formed to find other human settlements, but there haven't been any outsiders found until you and your friend."

"Back up a sec. What exactly were you taught?"

"Well..." She cleared her throat. "About a century ago, the Titans showed up. They destroyed all human life except for those who made it inside the three walls: Maria, Rose, and Sina. Maria was breached five years ago, though."

"Were you taught anything about - oh, I dunno - history, perhaps?"

"Well, yeah. The discovery of the walls is part of our history. Oh, and I do know that Orientals are an almost extinct race of people. I've heard rumors that the last one is Mikasa Ackerman."

_That's obviously bullshit. There are plenty of Asians all throughout the States, Minami being a perfect example..._ "I don't exactly think that's history, but what about the American Revolution, the Crusades, the Spanish Inquisition, feudal Japan, the Great Wall of China — anything?"

Sasha shook her head, obviously clueless about what I spoke of. "What are those?" she asked, biting into the potato again. _She really likes potatoes_.

I sighed heavily. _Was she really not taught any other kind of history? Whoever leads this place is some kind of brainwashing megalomaniac._ "I guess I can explain to you a little bit..."

* * *

**U.S.S. Lincoln**

**Lake Constance, German-Swiss border**

* * *

"Major, status report."

"Charlie Team's helo went down about three hours ago. Only three bodies were spotted in the wreckage: Sergeants Jeri Martinez and Robert Hartman and Captain Michael Robertson. Lieutenants Clinton and Hazuki are still unaccounted for."

General Dempsey sighed. It was only supposed to be a recon mission, though engaging the enemy was part of the plan, solely for battle data. Major Hitler leaned back in his seat, both of their teams reaching the carrier without incident.

"What about Delta Team?" the General asked, looming above his subordinate.

"They're about twenty minutes out. They engaged one of those things and the helo got damaged. It's repairable, from what the pilot said, but their speed is... subpar."

A beeping began to emanate from a nearby computer. The General and Major both walked to the device. The monitor, which had a map of Germany displayed, showed a pulsating orange circle near Altensteig.

"General, orange means they made contact with Europeans."

The General remained stoic externally, but, internally, he was surprised and glad at the same time. "They're two steps ahead of the game, Adolf. They've taken down at least one of those giant bastards and they made contact with Europeans."

"Sir, they were supposed to keep us informed via radio," the Major said, taking a seat.

The General frowned. "Right, they didn't follow orders entirely. Wait, I didn't hear anything from anyone after Lieutenant Clinton told me about the kill spot..."

Major Hitler facepalmed. "Permission to speak freely, sir."

"Granted, Major."

"You're a fucking dumbass."

The General rolled his eyes. "Like you haven't done stupid shit before." Dempsey tuned the nearby radio and spoke into the microphone. "Lieutenant Clinton, this is General Dempsey..."

* * *

**Karanese District**

* * *

"...those states were, like the name implies, feudal. They were always fighting."

Sasha quietly nibbled on a potato, listening intently. She really seemed interested.

"Then what?" she asked.

"Well, like I said, they fought each other a hell of a lot, and-"

"Lieutenant Clinton, this is General Dempsey."

My earpiece's speaker filled my ear with the General's voice. Surprised, I hopped out of my chair, held my finger up to Sasha, and walked to a secluded part of the pub. Sasha kept an eye on me.

"General, why the hell didn't you answer me before?" I asked, ignoring the respect I was to show to my superiors.

"Sorry, Lieutenant," he said, a nervous laugh mixed in. "I, uh, may have turned my radio off on accident." _Dammit all to hell._ "Anyway, you've made contact with Europeans?"

A sigh escaped my lungs. "Yeah, except... well, Mina- er, Lieutenant Hazuki got injured and things here are... backward."

"Explain."

I explained to the General about the building structure, the technology, and the lack of knowledge of anything outside of the walls, even the most commonly known European history. He merely made affirmative grunts — though he was mildly shocked about how they all spoke English and the military members' lack of surprise at our arrival — and egged me on. I complied, but got some odd looks every so often from various parts of the pub. They probably thought I was some nutter, muttering to myself.

The General, in turn, told me that he'd send an extraction helo for Minami and myself once Minami got healed up. Minami's recoveries, with the archaic technology in the walled civilization's possession, was a week in the making. The General told me that if I needed any supplies I should radio in, request, and then find a secluded-yet-open area to activate the beacon.

I ended the pathetic conversation with my commanding officer and walked back to where Sasha sat. I picked up the not-so-appealing wooden mug on the table, raised it to my lips, and took a draught of water.

"Is there anywhere interesting to go?" I asked, setting the mug on the table. "Last thing I want to do is sit in a fuckin' pub for the rest of my life."

Sasha, who ravenously ate my food and hers alike while I spoke with my commanding officer, finished off her potato and washed it down with the rest of her water. She pushed her chair back and stood, leaving a few coins on the table, presumably as a tip. She nodded toward the door, her ponytail bobbing around, and pushed her chair in.

I walked to the door and pushed it open, holding it for Sasha. She walked outside and I followed, the winged badge on the back of her jacket wrinkling with her movements. I patted my leg, making sure the 1911 was still in place on my thigh, and cracked my neck.

"So," she said as she turned down an alley with me in tow. A small produce market lied in it. "Why were you talking to yourself?"

Explaining what technology I used wasn't of the essence. "I'm schizophrenic," I lied.

"You're what?"

My right index finger shot to my temple. "It's a mental disorder. I hear voices in my head and, well... they're not exactly easy to ignore."

"So you spoke to yourself angrily and called yourself 'General Dempsey?'"

"You're more attentive than you look. I suppose I can tell-"

The sound of preaching reached my ears and interrupted my thoughts, which ended my speech. My eyes shot to the source of the voice: a man on a soapbox with a brick in his hand. He pointed to me and raised the brick.

"You, there! Do you accept the Wall as your lord and savior?"

Sasha huffed loudly while I glared at the man. "I don't even believe in Jesus, so why the fuck would I place my faith in a wall?"

The preacher glared back at me. "The Wall protects us from the Titans! The Wall grants us life, prosperity, happiness! The Wall is all that is divine and holy! Do not deny the Wall's euphoric aura of protection and serenity!"

I turned to Sasha. "Can I punch this guy?"

She shook her head. "No, not yet."

"So you're saying there's a chance I'll be able to punch him?"

She grabbed me by the arm and began walking forward. "Some day, maybe."

After walking for a few minutes, she suddenly stopped. I stretched out my legs and looked around, only to get shocked by arms suddenly wrapping around me from behind.

"It's a little early to be getting sexual, don'tcha think?" I asked, turning my head to see Sasha's ponytail whip around in the wind. "Seriously though, what are you doing?"

"You wanted to see something interesting..." She shot her grappling hook, which I learned earlier that day was called a 3DMG, and we were launched into the air. "...so I'm going to show you something interesting!"

* * *

**Shibuya, Tokyo Prefecture, Empire of Japan**

* * *

"Go! Just go!"

A loud crunch, followed by rapid footsteps echoed in the night, heavy breathing synchronising with them. The red rain fell to the ground in an eerily calming fashion. A body, under the cover of darkness, slipped into an abandoned building. Shibuya's grassy dirt roads and ageing structures made the man who entered the building feel lost in time. Granted, he didn't even know what Shibuya was, for he was merely dropped into the area without much, just the clothes he wore, a parachute on his back, a pack of food to last a week, and a small .38 caliber revolver with forty rounds. Before he jumped out of the plane, he was told that freedom lied below and the jump was just for fun.

He shut the door and slid down the wall, now knowing that the promises of freedom were mere lies to coax him into suicide. It hurt what little pride the man had left to think about his stupid mistake. If only he hadn't thought he was one of the lucky few and chosen such a misleading pardon.

He sat for a few minutes and his brain suddenly registered... light. It was there the whole time, but in his panicked state, he hadn't noticed it. Illuminated by the light was a humanoid figure, but not one of those things that ate his comrades. Warily, the man rose to his feet and walked forward, drawing his .38 caliber revolver. He raised the handgun and aimed around the corner, training his aim on a person with black-hair sitting next to a fire. He cocked the revolver slowly and continued to walk forward.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you," the person said, their voice feminine. The person turned around, revealing themselves to be a woman. "Take a seat, and don't be too loud."

The man, his hands shaky due to many perverse thoughts running through his mind, slowly lowered the revolver. He was alone with a young vixen in the middle of nowhere. It was a lawless land and they were likely to die, so rape certainly wasn't rape, right?

Against his impulses, the man sat across from the woman, whose ripped clothing revealed much of her body, and set the revolver to his side.

"What's your name?" the woman asked, placing a cigarette in her mouth and lighting it.

"Why's it imp-" She shifted just enough to reveal some more of her cleavage. "Leonard Marx." He mentally swore, damning his weakness to attractive women. "You?"

She inhaled some nicotine from her cigarette and blew the smoke out in an oddly sexual manner. "Angel Bell." She flicked the ash and held the fag out toward Leonard. "You look stressed. Take it."

He nodded and accepted, placing the cigarette in his mouth and inhaling some mind-calming nicotine. "Thanks."

Angel nodded and moved again, revealing her nipple. "So, what prison did they send you from?"

Leonard took a drag and raised an eyebrow, but immediately looked at her breasts. "Huntsville, in Texas."

"What for?"

"Offing about twenty American cops at some Canadian pride rallies." He took another drag and blew the smoke out. "Fuckin' Yanks deserved it."

Angel suddenly started to crawl toward Leonard, her breasts freely going about. "Oh, you must be a naughty boy, Lennie."

Leonard, overjoyed that he would be able to get away with it, put the cigarette out and unzipped his pants. "You bet your sweet ass I am." He pushed her down on the ground and forced himself upon her.

"Oh, baby," she moaned, before anything sexual started. "I like it rough."

* * *

Angel sat next to the fire and threw some kindling on, her once-salvageable torn clothes now useless due to the rough sexual encounter. She lit a fag and took a drag, her genitalia covered by an old Japanese futon. Next to her, sleeping, lied Leonard, the criminal who basically raped her.

It was shameful for her to say that she enjoyed it.

She grabbed her knife, a switchblade, out of the futon and flicked it open. The blade had served her well over the past year, but it was in desperate need of a sharpening. Regardless of its current state, she knew the blade would get the job done.

She placed a pillow, one of the many things she scavenged, on top of his head. No reaction was made, pleasing Angel as she took another drag. Using her left elbow, she firmly kept the pillow on the criminal's face and used her right hand to wield the knife. She raised the dirty blade to his jugular and sliced into it, instantly waking him up. He began to scream, but his cries of agony were muffled by the pillow, his blood bubbling out of the wound. She dropped the blade and used both hands to silence him. He began to flail, hitting his assailant several times, but Angel remained stoic and, using one hand, flicked some ash onto Leonard's hairy chest before snuffing the cigarette out on his nipple. He began to howl in agony as he bled, suffocated, and burned. Within half a minute, his body went limp. Angel checked his pulse to make sure he was dead and, sure enough, he was.

She relit the cigarette and leaned back, removing the pillow from her kill's face. In the morning, she'd dump the body outside for those kyojin, as the locals called them, to have. She'd take whatever supplies she could off of him and migrate elsewhere in the city, maybe even head to the underground for a while.

She didn't regret killing the man. He was just another Canadian radical that made all Canadians look bad. However, she didn't like doing what she did, even though she had to. "Girl's gotta do what a girl's gotta do," she muttered once the thoughts crossed her mind.

_Even if it means being a Black Widow._


	5. Camping in Trost

**Above the Trost District**

* * *

"This is certainly interesting."

On the streets below, a full-scale war was broken out. What the humans were doing, I couldn't tell, but Titans either fell or had a snack, humans either slew or were slain, I either watched or watched...

"No... not here, too," Sasha muttered as I brushed myself off, the whole rapid moving-by-portable-zip line concept still not registering with me all too well. She turned to me and pointed to the ground. "Stay here!" She then hopped off of the wall, activating her 3DMG and flying off while unsheathing her blades.

"Dammit," I muttered, unsure of what to do. Attracting attention to myself wasn't something I wanted to do. I paced around for a few seconds, irritated that I wasn't able to do anything. _Wait..._

I took the rifles off of my back and unwrapped them, setting the Springfield to the side and rewrapping the Browning. I replaced the automatic rifle on my back, attached a makeshift sling onto the Springfield, and picked the sniper up, flicking the safety off. I ran twenty feet to my right and went prone on the edge of the wall, unfolding the rifle's bipod. I looked down the really powerful scope and looked around, trying to get a fix on a tango.

As I looked through the scope, I saw what the people were doing: they were swinging around with their 3DMG units. I looked for Sasha and saw her swing between some buildings, her blades held out on each side of her. She swung toward a Titan, her left blade stretched outward. She arched around its neck and sliced the blade across the middle of the nape.

With the knowledge of what the blades and the 3DMG units were actually intended for now in my head, I began searching for a tango once more. In between some buildings was a fairly short Titan, maybe twenty feet in height at the most, its back facing me. I scoped in on the center of its nape and, once I compensated for distance, my right index finger pulled the trigger. The powerful blast of a fifty-caliber round being fired reverberated off of the walls beneath me and the recoil of the rifle barely fazed me.

The bullet smacked into the target, hitting bullseye and causing a small amount of blood and flesh to spatter away. The gigantic monstrosity immediately went limp, falling to the ground with a thud that it faintly heard. A decent amount of dust was kicked up by the giant thing's belly flop.

I got up and relocated for a better vantage point. Without having anything to get the men and women on the ground to distract the Titans in a way that would let me off them, I had to move quickly. The swinging soldiers certainly seemed capable of taking the giants down, but they did seem like they could've used a hand.

After running about fifty more yards, I lied down again and scoped in another target. This fifty-foot Titanic douche was harassing a black haired soldier. She was backed into a corner along with some fellow with a shaved head. The distance between me and the target wasn't very large, actually being somewhat short, so I barely had to compensate. After training the crosshairs on the enemy, I squeezed the trigger.

The large bullet smacked into the Titan's neck, but it was a little off.

"Fuck," I muttered, hastily sighting in for another shot. Within the second I took to re-aim the rifle, Blackie and Baldie made a break for it, the shaved head guy catapulting himself around the Titan's neck and cutting into the nape. Like its comrade before, the Titan fell, tumbling backward into some nearby buildings. A ridiculous amount of dust got knocked out of the building and the freak began to dissolve. The shaved fellow's expression was one of surprise, at least before the

"Must have some pretty dusty buildings here," I observed as I got up again and began running, attempting to get another vantage point.

_BOOM!_

I looked toward the source of the loud shot, which sounded like cannon fire, and was fortunate enough to see a large black projectile headed in my general direction. Rolling to my left, I narrowly missed the cannonball, but the shock from it hitting the top of the wall caused me to lose balance and slip off the edge of the wall. Instinctively, I grabbed the edge with my left hand.

_WHY THE HELL WAS I SHOT AT?!_

My hand began slipping and I lost my grip before I could get a hold with both hands. Frantically, I thought of some way I could survive, drawing blanks for a second. Then, suddenly... _GOT IT!_

I switched which hand the rifle was in and drew the M1911 with my right hand. I flicked the safety off, aimed down the wall and squeezed the trigger three times, reengaged the safety, holstered it, and grabbed the rappel hook from my tactical belt. As quickly as possible, I pulled back the latch and held it along the wall, hoping for a catch in one of the bullet holes. The latch caught and the wire inside the belt began to unravel, slowing my velocity down a hell of a lot. I came to a complete stop with a slight jerk, roughly fifty feet from the ground.

"Holy goodness," I breathed, adrenaline pumping me full of energy. "That had to be the stupidest stroke of luck."

The cloak on my back flapped around and, somehow, the BAR remained on my back. I spun around to face downward and had a gander at the surroundings, a very unsightly beast greeting me.

A Titan with a huge shiteating grin was not even five feet below me.

I replaced the rifle in my right hand and shouldered it, not even aiming down the scope. My finger squeezed the trigger, the bullet hitting it right in the eye. The gun's recoil loosened the latch in the bullet hole, the vibrations probably traveling through and moving the metal piece just enough to screw it up, and I fell once more.

"Mister Clinton!" I heard from below. My eyes, in the brief second I had, shot to the ground and registered Sasha standing there, likely having been cornered by the Titan.

I landed above the Titan's mouth, my boots squishing into its other eye. It reared back — whether it was from pain or just being blind in both eyes, I don't know — and knocked me over. As the rappel latch returned to my belt, my left hand grabbed onto the Titan's black hair, leaving me dangling above the nape of its neck. With my right hand, I managed to get the makeshift sling on the Springfield around my neck. The giant abomination tried to shake me off, even hitting itself on the crown of its skull in order to get rid of the human flea. I unholstered the M1911 and flicked the safety off, squeezing the trigger four consecutive times at various points near the center of its neck. The monstrosity's knees bucked and it fell forward. I held on as best I could with one hand, screaming as I fell fifty feet. The giant corpse hit the ground and I got jerked around, smacking my face off of its skull. Rearing back in pain, I rolled onto its back, holding my busted nose as blood ran down my mouth. Hopping forward despite the pain, my feet contacted the ground with a slight buckle in my knees. I stumbled a little, almost positive that my nose was broken. _That was the single most badass thing I have ever done._

"Mister Cl-"

I held my right hand, the one still gripping the 1911, up. "Please, Sasha, call me Al." I shook my head, ignored the pain, and hit the mag release on the pistol.

"Uh, okay, Al," she said as I slapped a new magazine in and pulled back the slide. "That was pretty cool... Wait, did I not tell you to stay up on the wall?! And what did you use?"

Blood trickled onto my lips and into my open mouth. It tasted... bloody. "You did. Also, guns."

"Then wh-"

I held my hand up again and stared at her. "Look, we can talk about this later. Right now, we have more titanic issues to worry about." I walked forward and hugged her.

"Wh-wha...? What are you doing?!" the potato girl asked nervously.

"Hugging you. That's pretty obvious. We'll go on a date later, but for now, get me to a vantage point. I'm almost useless on the ground."

After a brief hesitation, Sasha complied and shot her grappling hooks. My grip didn't tense up as I saw the ground from behind us slowly get smaller, as though I were on a rollercoaster. I felt indifferent, having just escaped death twice within a minute.

Talk about luck.

After a few swings, we landed on top of a building that rose above the others, though not by much. I let go of Sasha and walked around, figuring that it was a decent height and sizable enough for me to comfortably snipe.

"This is the tallest building in the Trost District, the military supply HQ," she said. "Do you think you'll be safe here?"

I grabbed the Springfield off of my back and crouched down. "Should be. You gonna be safe down there?"

She gave me a sly grin. "It's only been a few hours, but you're worried about me, huh?"

I shrugged. "'No one gets left behind.'" My hand shot into my pocket and retrieved Minami's earpiece set. I handed it to Sasha. "Put the wire down your shirt and hook this," I pointed to the small transmitter to show what I was referring to, "onto your belt. Make sure it's secure, and then put this," I pointed to the earpiece itself, "into your ear."

"But why?" she asked, trying to push the technology back to me.

"That way we can communicate. This is a radio. It enables us to talk over long distances. Now do it, that way I can be your eyes in the sky, okay?" Reluctantly, she complied, though I had to turn away when she put the wire down her shirt. In under a minute, I helped her get everything situated. I placed my earpiece in my ear and turned it on. "You should be able to hear me twice." Sasha nodded. "Good, now go."

She hopped off the roof and sprang into action, swinging from building to building. I went completely prone and tried scoping in a target, but I couldn't get a clear shot on any of them. Without a target, I moved on to my second plan, which was to just defend Sasha. She was the only member of the warring humans I had extensive conversation with, so she was my first priority. Training my scope on her, I watched as she stopped on the building that Baldie and Blackie were holed up on. Baldie was on his feet, but Blackie was basically in fetal position.

"Connie, how are you holding up?" Sasha asked the one I identified as Baldie.

"Fine, I guess. Just... I don't know," Bald- er, Connie replied.

While they had a nice chat about Connie's family and how some bad shit went down (or something like that), I took a couple shots at a Titan that decided to turn its back to me. The first shot was pretty close to the center, but not a fatal hit. The second one took the giant out, causing it to smash into a building before bubbling up.

"Ow!" Sasha cried through the earpiece. "That was loud!"

"What was?" Connie asked.

"It was nothing, Sasha. No questions, it just was," I quickly said in a demanding tone.

"Uh, just the Titan that died over there," she nervously replied, motioning to the Titan I killed. "That was a pretty loud crash." She walked over to Blackie and kneeled down. "Are you okay?"

I swayed the scope around, searching for any immediate threats. All of the Titans were spread about, but the swinging people seemed like they were able to handle it. A few Titans were able to nibble on a human before getting killed by one right after.

"They... they ate them..." the black-haired girl said, whimpering lightly.

I looked back at the rooftop and saw Sasha pat Blackie on the head, probably consoling her. Moving my scope a little more, I spotted a Titan headed toward them.

"You've got a Titan headed toward you on the street to the right of that building. I can't get a shot, it's not facing away from me."

Sasha shot up and ordered the traumatized girl to stay put. She shot off toward the opposite building and swung toward the Titan. She swung right into the building next to the Titan, bouncing on the shingles before coming to a halt.

"Ugh," she groaned, her voice dripping with anguish. _She probably broke a few bones, with how fast she smacked into the building._

"Can you move?" I asked, feeling a little worried.

"Nuh-uh," she groaned, trying to get up. "Ow..."

"SASHA!" Connie's voice was loud enough for me to hear through Sasha's earpiece. He swung in and landed next to her, the Titan drawing nearer and nearer. "Are you okay?!"

"Tell him just to get you out of there and get that Titan to turn around. I'll take care of it, just get the hell out of there."

She relayed most of the message. Connie scooped Sasha up and swung toward a building behind the giant. The Titan spun around and tried to follow. The crosshairs of my rifle snapped onto the center of its neck and I squeezed the trigger once, aimed a little lower, and fired again. Both bullets smacked into the giant and took it down. Connie looked directly at the felled Titan.

"What just happened?" Connie asked, confusion in his voice.

"America, fuck yeah," I said, forgetting that my microphone was still on.

"America, fuck yeah?" Sasha asked, grunting in pain immediately afterward.

"What?" Connie asked, shooting off toward the wall to get Sasha to safety. The black-haired girl must've gotten her act together, because she was close behind. "America? What are you talking about?"

"I'm not sure," Sasha replied.

The whole time, I muted my microphone and had a hearty chuckle. My slip-up ended in some oddly placed humor. The laughter ended, however, once I realized that, with Sasha down and out, I was basically stuck on the rooftop with all of the Titans going about, and getting more people involved was exactly what I didn't want.

_Great..._

* * *

The fight raged for hours. Sasha and I didn't talk a whole lot over the radio, but I found out that the 3DMG units were pneumatic and utilized gas tanks to propel and retract the grappling hook. It was stuff straight out of a steampunk story. I also learned, with that bit of info, that Sasha forgot to refill her gas tanks, which caused her to faceplant on the roof.

By the time the battle with the Titans ended, I had killed roughly twenty-two and used thirty-two rounds of .50BMG ammunition. My ears rang for close to an hour afterward, and according to Sasha, some soldiers trained to fight Titans specifically didn't even get ten. I figured it actually paid to be a camper for once.

At sunset, once the attack began to wane and there were scarcely any Titans in the streets, I began to rappel down the building. Sasha, having recuperated for a short time (but not enough to wipe the dry blood off of her face), met me at street level and instructed me to follow her. We walked the streets, which were lined with blood and had a few grotesque "hair balls" scattered about, filled with human body parts. Sasha had a noticeable limp, but she reassured me that she was fine.

We ended up entering an inn and she paid for one room. I would have offered to pay, but I had severe doubts that United States Dollars were accepted as a form of payment. We walked to the second floor and entered the room, which had two separate beds. Sasha plopped on one and motioned for me to close the door. She took the 3DMG off and leaned back, resting her head on the pillow.

"Don't you have a barracks or something?" I asked, setting the rifles on the floor and taking the cloak off.

She shrugged. "It doesn't really matter. The Commander and Captain put me in charge of you, so..." She grinned. "Here I am."

I sat on the empty bed and took my backpack off, followed by the jacket, which left me in just a beige t-shirt and camouflaged pants. I set them both on the floor and yawned. My stomach rumbled loudly and for a good five seconds. _Sitting on a roof and shooting for an entire day really takes its toll._

_"_Can we get some food?" I asked.

Sasha sat up earnestly. "I thought you'd never ask."

* * *

**May 3, 1926**

**U.S.S. Lincoln**

**Lake Constance, German-Swiss Border**

* * *

"Adolf!"

The Major looked up from his sketch pad. "Yes, sir?"

"Cut the formalities," the General bluntly said. "Anyway, what did the Lieutenant say and what did the spy planes show?"

"Footage from Bravo-One shows a bunch of 'Titans' outside what Lieutenant Clinton says is Wall Rose. Bravo-Two's footage shows some degree of destruction inside that wall, in a location the Lieutenant called the 'Trost District.'"

"The Lieutenants are safe, though, right?"

"Affirmative, General. Clinton participated in a battle for the city of Trost yesterday evening and successfully helped repel the Titans."

Dempsey nodded. "Kid has potential. We'll set up comms with him soon, plan our next moves then. We can't go in, else all of the people within will freak out. Just tell him to keep a low profile for now." He took a few gulps of beer out of a nearby beer bottle. "We'll figure something out."


End file.
